The Sins He Committed
by Clydell Humphries
Summary: "I would commit any sin to share your pain." The words were true; Eric would do anything to save Alan. The thorns caused his life to be riddled with sins, but just so long as he worked to save his partner, nothing mattered. Oneshot, Eric/Alan.


**A/N: Hello! These are (or were, I combined them into a oneshot) a set of… I suppose you could call them drabbles. They're based on Eric and the sins he committed while trying to save Alan, or just to do with the Thorns of Death in general. The sins are murder, wrath, sloth, greed, lying, lust, envy and pride. It's the seven deadly sins (without gluttony, because I couldn't think of a proper example. Indulging in food isn't really something that comes to mind when thinking about Eric saving Alan), plus murder and lying because I couldn't leave them out, since Eric did so much of both.**

**Oh, and I don't own Kuroshitsuji. Thank God, because Yana does a brilliant job.**

* * *

><p><em>Murder<em>

It was a cold night in which Eric found himself roaming the streets of London.

His green eyes, most of the time cheerful, were dull. The part of his hair that wasn't in cornrows had become tangled from the day's work, and was damp from the light rain that had only subsided moments ago. It hadn't stopped him from walking, although he wasn't entirely sure where he was going. Still, his pace never slowed.

He tried not to think. Thinking wasn't good; it made him doubt what he was doing. Caused his conscious to speak up, telling him that what he was planning was wrong and that nobody's life should be taken, despite the circumstances. Then images of Alan writhing in pain would appear, and a war that only he knew of would begin in his thoughts.

So he tried to keep his mind blank as he continued, searching for somebody. But no, it couldn't be anybody. The soul had to be pure; a woman or child's.

Eric heard hurried footsteps approaching, and his instincts were brought into action. Swiftly, he leapt up onto a lamppost that was illuminating the area with a soft glow, gloved hand gripping the cool metal, and waited.

He didn't know what to expect. Was it just a late night worker, eager to get home before the rain hit again? There were plenty of those around London, so it would come as no surprise. Not a second after he thought this, a woman appeared from around the corner, running frantically. She was only young, perhaps in her early twenties, and had a pretty face. However, it was painted with terror, and Eric soon learnt why. Close behind her was a man, a twisted smirk playing on his lips. He was quickly covering the distance between the woman and himself, and though it was barely visible, Eric noticed that he was holding a knife.

It was the perfect opportunity. If he did nothing, she surely would be killed anyway. Jumping from the lamppost, Eric grabbed hold of the man's jacket roughly and threw him aside. His head whacked against the brick building hard, and he didn't have time to register what happened. He was unconscious a second later.

Eric sighed. Killing a man like that would do no good. He needed _pure_ souls. The man's was nothing of the sort.

His attention turned back to the woman, who had sunk to her knees weakly. She let out a startled sob, her brown eyes surveying the scene frantically. Her chestnut hair had come loose and clung to her face clumsily. She was trembling violently, and not just from the cold air surrounding them. It was a wonder that she hadn't tripped over, with the amount of layers her dress had. She was clearly from a wealthy family, Eric thought.

Once she saw what had happened to her attacker and calmed down enough to understand, she stared up at Eric, who was walking forward slowly. "Th-Thank y-you!" she stuttered, tears coming into her eyes. "Oh… _thank you_!" She rose shakily, stumbling towards him. Eric held his arms out as she fell into them, crying. Grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket, she clung to it desperately as though it were her life. "Th-That man… oh G-God… thank y-you!" Burying her head into his chest, she continued to let out strangled sobs.

Guilt cloaked Eric, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. She'd already been through so much, yet he was going to kill her. It was nothing short of cruel. Reaching one hand away from her, his scythe appeared, going unnoticed by the one close to him.

"I thought I-I was going t-to die!" the woman continued, voice slightly muffled. Tears ran down her face rapidly, and she began to mutter things not even Eric could understand. She really was a mess.

So small, so hopeless. The woman would have had no way to defend herself. Eric was doing her a favour; there was no telling what that man would have done to her before killing her. Her death would have been painful.

"Don't worry, it's all over now," he murmured, bring the scythe closer to her.

She didn't see it, and breathed in deeply. A slight smile formed on her trembling lips. "I kn-know… I'm safe. I-I can-" Her words were cut off as Eric's scythe slid effortlessly into her neck.

Her cinematic record spun out immediately, playing the memories of her life. Her body dropped to the ground with a small thud, and using his scythe Eric gathered the rolls of film. He tried to ignore the flashing images representing her past, but even so he caught glimpses of a man she loved and friends she valued. A wonderful life that he'd cut short.

The first sin he committed.

* * *

><p><em>Wrath<em>

Loud.

God, why was everything so bloody _loud_?

Eric stifled a groan and leant back into his chair, jaw rigid. It seemed everybody had to pick today to chat with everybody else, making concentrating on the mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk near impossible. He'd had next to no sleep the night before... or the night before that. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember the last time he _had_ slept properly. The progress to save Alan was moving along slower than he wanted, and he'd spent another full night collecting souls.

In other words, killing. He'd spent the night being a murderer.

Regardless, why couldn't they all just _shut up_?

"And then," Ronald announced loudly, face red from all the laughing, "Grell walked right up to Mr Spears and starting making him dance! Oh God, the look on his face was priceless! The boss really isn't the one for parties, is he?"

This was followed by another roar of laughter by both him and Alan. Alan's face was bright and cheerful, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He looked better than he had in weeks, thought Eric, but it didn't stop the irritation he felt by the sound. "I wish I could have been there for that! It would have been something to see," the brunet replied.

"It was, trust me," Ronald assured him, wiping his eyes. "You and Eric have to come to the next party, Alan, last night's was a blast. Even the boss came… except Grell practically _dragged_ him along."

Yes, Ronald would have been having a terrific time last night, Eric thought bitterly. Just fooling around as usual, being the highlight of the party. Dancing, drinking… probably with another girl from General Affairs by the end of it.

Sitting next to the youngest reaper was a less amused red head, pouting. "Will didn't even give me a good night kiss afterwards!" he huffed. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do after a date? _Really~_! Then he gave me overtime for 'conducting myself around a co-worker in an inappropriate manner'!"

"Bad luck, Grell," Ronald said, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. He looked as though he was trying not to laugh, but a slight snigger gave him away.

Eric tried to block out the noise once more. It was irritating him to a level he didn't think possible mere moments ago. Rage was boiling underneath his skin with every word spoken by the others. Not just the loudness of it, but the topic. He missed the days when he could spare the time to join fun like that.

Bloody disease. Bloody _cure_. Why did it have to be one _thousand_ souls?

"But you know," Ronald continued, a sly look appearing on his face, "I could talk to him. Give him a few tips on dating and whatnot. That way you might get that kiss you're looking for."

Out of all the things the stupid kid had to say, that was it. Grell let out a high pitched squeal, making Eric cringe. His fists clenched tightly, and the pen he had been using snapped as the red head began his ramble.

"Ronnie, you dear~!" Grell cried, rising from his seat. He placed both hands over his heart dramatically, letting out a sigh. "That would be delightful! Oh, the thought of cold, handsome William giving me a kiss after a date is… ah~! I can just see it now! Maybe some beautiful red flowers too, for a beautiful red lady!" He spun around, grinning to reveal his sharp teeth.

"Will you _shut up_ already?" Eric roared, standing immediately. Three pairs of green eyes looked up at him in surprise. He ignored it. "God, all you've done all day is _talk_! Get some work done for once!"

A moment of silence passed uncomfortably. "Eric," Alan said quietly, frowning, "we finished our work hours ago, our shift's almost completed. We offered to help you with yours, remember?" He cast a weary glance at the large pile on Eric's desk, picking up one of the few finished forms. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Eric, these don't even make sense! If I can't understand your writing then there's no way William will be able to."

"Shut up," Eric snapped without thinking. Alan looked taken aback; Eric never spoke to him like that. "Maybe I would have gotten more work done, but you lot had to keep on talking and being so loud, didn't you?"

"Calm down, Eric!" Ronald told him, shaking his head. "Mate, what's going on? Usually you don't care if we're loud. You're one of the loudest! But lately… you've been a jerk, frankly."

"I'm tired."

"Well, we can see that!" Grell replied, irritated that his excitement had been broken. "Really, what were you _doing_ last night?"

"That's none of your business," Eric stated coldly. God, the last thing he needed was for Grell to find out.

The red head sighed, turning away. "You're being _completely _unreasonable!"

"Cross dressing freak," the blond muttered, a little louder than he intended to.

Both Alan and Ronald held their breath, knowing that the outcome of Eric's comment wouldn't be pretty.

Grell spun around, green eyes blazing angrily. "Would you like to repeat that?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

By now the room was silent, and Alan and Ronald's eyes were darting quickly between both reapers, neither sure what they should do. Grell and Eric were stronger than the two of them, and if a fight broke out there would be no way they could stop it.

"Come on, Grell," Eric said, sighing. He couldn't be bothered putting up with the red head's games. "We all know you're not really a woman, so stop pretending and face reality. Is that so hard?"

The other reaper's expression was a mixture of hurt and fury, and Eric had to duck as a swipe with the chainsaw scythe was thrown his way. "How _dare_ you!" Grell screamed, leaping forward.

Eric thought he was holding up his scythe to defend himself, however he instead drew it back and brought it forward at a faster speed. It made contact with the other reaper, and Grell stumbled backwards, causing the papers on Eric's desk to fly everywhere. When he saw the red liquid coming from his shoulder, he let out a yelp of pain, and Eric lowered his scythe, startled.

Had he really just done that? Attacked one of his friends over a petty matter?

Grell took advantage of the hesitation and jumped forward again. Eric held his scythe up in defence, but there was no need. A pole was jammed suddenly between both, and they looked up to where it lead quickly.

In the doorway stood William, a look of displeasure on his face as he surveyed the two reapers.

Again the room was silent, save for Grell and Eric's panting. They glared at each other for a moment before looking away. The blond tried to collect his thoughts, but they were too astray. All he could do was cast his gaze over to Alan. The brunet was looking at the ground, twisting his hands uncomfortably. He seemed disappointed, _ashamed,_ at what Eric had done.

"Sutcliff, Slingby-" William began coldly.

"That _monster!" _Grell interrupted, voice rough and slightly pained. He looked at his shoulder, where the blood was beginning to stain his shirt and vest. "I'm going straight to the infirmary, you should have _seen _how he acted!"

_Monster_. Yes, that was right. Eric was turning into a monster. He glanced over Grell quickly. The cut wasn't deep, but scythe wounds stung more than most, and judging by Grell's tone, he was hurt. Why had he done it? Was he even thinking?

Grell had started the fight, physically at least, but Eric could just as easily have defended himself. Yet his scythe had risen, and he'd slashed instead. What bothered him most was that it didn't seem like he was in control of it. It had just _happened_.

Could it happen again? To another friend… to _Alan_?

William held up his hand it front of Grell, who had gone to barge past him. "I've been here for quite some time, Sutcliff," he stated. "From the point when you began retaliating."

Grell ignored the comment, slapping his hand away. William sighed when he heard footsteps die away in the corridor soon after Grell exited. "_Honestly_," he muttered, retracting his scythe. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he was looking directly at Eric. "Slingby, follow me."

* * *

><p><em>Sloth<em>

Eric stepped into the superior's bland office, not pleased with the situation at all. The odds were that he would get overtime, and that would mean he wouldn't have any time to sleep, or collect souls.

William gestured for him to take a seat. Eric did so, looking around. It never failed to surprise him just how boring his superior's office was. It was like his personality had been mirrored, then put into office form. The room had nothing but a wooden desk, two chairs and half a dozen filing cabinets clearly labelled; no changes since his last visit. Bland, but expected from the boss with the biggest stick up his arse. Eric's mouth twitched.

"Mr Slingby, the state of your work lately has been nowhere near its usual standard," William began, bringing him back to the situation at hand. His eyes locked on Eric in an attempt to make him feel uneasy.

It had no effect on the other reaper, unlike many others. He'd been in the office countless times before, usually for damaging work property, and had to face it each time. It had gotten to the point where it was overused, and didn't bother him in the slightest.

He had to hide his relief. So this was only about his working efforts, or rather, lack of? Grell would be furious that William didn't seem to care about his wellbeing during the fight. Eric would be out in no time if they were only talking about _work_. "I apologize," he replied.

"I'm not the one who you should be apologizing to. Surprisingly, I haven't been picking up your slack."

This surprised Eric; usually William was the one to complete other's unfinished paperwork, giving the reaper who didn't overtime as punishment. "You haven't?"

William sighed, pushing up his glasses. He began shuffling around a few papers on his desk in search of something. "From the beginning of last week, your work began to decline rapidly, the large majority of it not being handed in at all. I was about to set you for overtime, however new reports began coming in."

"'New'?" Eric murmured, confused.

William found what he was looking for and passed a few forms across his desk. "Perhaps you should see these, Mr Slingby. You've been in my division long enough for me to know that this is _not_ your work. Just prior to these being submitted, your reports were in a terrible state, and these ones are neater than anything you've done before. It's clear that somebody else has been completing these for you, as well as their own."

Eric examined the forms, squinting slightly. Whoever had filled them out had small handwriting. Small, yet almost impossibly neat. It wasn't rushed, and it looked as though whoever had written it had taken a lot of care. His heart sunk, and he felt guilt overwhelm him. It was Alan's tidy scrawl written all over the page.

He flicked to the next form, finding it was in the same state. As was the one after it. "Are all the reports written like this?" he questioned, dreading the answer.

The other reaper nodded. "They managed to forge your signature perfectly, too."

"Alan…" Eric muttered. The brunet was the only one who knew him well enough to be able to replicate it. It was done to perfection; Eric almost believed that he'd signed it himself.

"I suspected so." William held out a gloved hand, and Eric passed him back the forms. "Regardless of whether or not your reports have been filled in, they need to be filled in by _you,_ Mr Slingby," his superior continued. "Most are about the souls that the reaper has collected, and Mr Humphries doesn't know what only you witnessed. They're of little use to me otherwise."

"Alright then, I'll get on it," Eric said dryly. He rose to leave, but the clearing of William's throat indicated that they weren't finished.

"Where were you at 4:13 yesterday?"

The one sitting on the other side of the desk blinked. "Huh?"

"4:13 yesterday, Mr Slingby," William repeated. "And 5:27. Where were you?"

Eric thought hard. He hadn't begun his usual killings at that time, so it clearly wasn't an interrogation on _that_ matter. In fact, by then he would have been… "At home," he responded, frown deepening. "Was I supposed to be somewhere else?"

"On the contrary, you were assigned to reap two souls in London last night. Luckily, Mr Knox was in the area, and noticed that you were absent. No demons were able to steal them."

"Oh," was all Eric could reply with. How had he forgotten?

William nodded. "I expect your work to be in a better state from now on, and for you to not provoke Sutcliff. The last thing we need is a reaper down; all of us will be in for overtime if that happens. If you pass him, tell him that I wish to see him here."

Eric didn't respond, only left. He shut the door to the office, and had to restrain himself from swearing.

He couldn't believe it. He was always on William's case about giving Alan too much paperwork, only to find out that his partner had been doing pretty much all of his. Furious, he made his way back to the office shared by himself, Ronald, Grell and Alan. It was empty, but there was no reason for it not to be. The day had ended; they would all be heading home by now. Except Grell, who was probably trying to get pity from reapers at the infirmary. Eric sat at his desk, putting his head in his hands.

So Alan had been taking on all the work he'd neglected. Great. Eric should have realized that he wasn't getting as much paperwork as usual, and that the pile seemed to shrink without him doing much. Though Alan looked better today, he had been more tired than he was usually. It killed to know that he was the one responsible.

The blond looked down at the floor, where Grell had knocked his pile of work over during the fight. It was spotless, not a form to be seen. Alan had probably taken them home to finish, as he had been doing for about a week.

Eric would have to make it up to him. Finish all of his own paperwork, and then tomorrow do a fair amount of his partner's, if Alan would allow him. Checking his assigned reaping wouldn't hurt either; the last thing he needed was overtime for forgetting again. William mightn't be so lenient a second time.

He'd have to get some more sleep now that he'd decided this.

It didn't look like anymore souls would be collected tonight.

* * *

><p><em>Greed<em>

Eric leant against the cool wall of the building, letting out a pant. His heart raced, and he looked down at his hands. Bloodied. Not literally; he hadn't been so careless. But it seemed like the red was there, taunting him.

He'd had no choice, that time around. She'd cried; she didn't completely understand what was going on around her. He had to kill her, she was a witness. Out of all the people he despised killing, young children were on the top of the list. They were so small; they hadn't gotten the chance to see the world completely.

He sighed, pushing all thoughts of her out of his mind. It didn't matter, she was gone. And her soul would have been pure; another one to save Alan. Eric breathed in, replaying the night's events in his mind.

There had been the three women who had just left a restaurant, laughing happily. It was too simple… they were too _careless_. Then after that, the couple sitting by the lake, content in each other's arms. Their bodies were easy to get rid of.

Afterwards he'd headed to the poorer part of London. Most people there wouldn't be missed. Breaking into a small home, he'd found four children, the youngest around twelve. Their faces were pale, and they were amazingly skinny. They reminded him painfully of Alan, and Eric had gotten rid of them quickly, not wanting to prolong the actions.

The children hadn't been alone in their home, Eric had found. In another room lay their mother, sick with a flu that had been plaguing London. Many people had gotten it recently; it was no surprise. She was unable to take care of her family, too weak and ill.

The thing that had astounded Eric about her was that she had looked up at him, her bloodshot eyes full of tears, and simply asked to be killed.

When he thought about it, it wasn't such an unexpected request. She knew he had killed her children, and she couldn't live without them. Her illness was slowly killing her anyway; why not end it sooner? He gave in to her wish.

After going to a few more houses, trying not to make any pattern seem evident, he decided that it would have to do for the night. Walking away, he was preparing to get back to the Reaper Realm, until he came across an older woman, whimpering. She'd been stabbed in the shoulder.

She was already going to die, Eric told himself as he raised his scythe. Why not take another soul?

Those sorts of actions disgusted him. Ones that were terrible, yet he didn't even have to process them. Was he really a monster beyond his own control, the one that attacked Grell?

He regretted it almost instantly after. A small, shocked scream sounded from behind him, and he turned his head. There was a young girl, no more than five, staring at him in terror. She had the same eyes as the older woman; her granddaughter? Tears sprang into her them when she saw the lifeless body of her grandmother, and she backed away, screaming once more.

He'd had no choice.

Eric sighed, staring down at her body, now next to her grandmother's. He began to walk, knowing Alan would be getting anxious about where he was. It felt like he'd make decent progress tonight. The three women, the young couple…

His footsteps halted suddenly when he realized that overall, only twenty one souls had been collected.

Eric cursed loudly, punching the wall next to him hard. It cracked slightly under the strain of his fist. Twenty one? That was pathetic. He'd thought he'd done _well_ that night, but it barely added up to his progress thus far. And heck, he couldn't even collect that many souls every night. Even if he did, it would take over another month to complete.

Alan could be dead by then.

He cursed once again. With the recent promise to Alan that he would get more sleep and actually complete his reaping duties, it would take another three months at least. At that rate, he would never finish in time.

It wasn't enough. He needed more souls. More deaths. More people needed to live pure lives. More people needed to _die_.

* * *

><p><em>Lying<em>

"Eric, where are you going?"

"Will you be alright?"

"Are you okay?"

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

To each of Alan's questions, Eric lied.

"Just back to the office, I'll be back soon." No, he wasn't going to the office. He was going to London, or towns near it. To murder, to save him.

"Of course I'll be alright!" Perhaps physically, but mentally? Each death was beginning to push him closer and closer to the brink of madness.

"I'm fine. Really!" No, he wasn't. The nightmares had begun, the souls he'd taken were haunting him in his rest. He thought they were contained safely in his scythe, but it clearly wasn't the case as they appeared before him in his sleep. But no, they had to die. It was the only way for Alan to survive.

"Of course I did, just like a baby." Sometimes. Eric had discovered the key to keeping his work steady while gathering souls; one night of collecting, one of sleep and one with half of each. His had a cycle, and so far, it was working.

Still, he didn't like lying to Alan. He valued trust in their relationship and breaking it intentionally wasn't something he was keen on. Alan would understand though, once he was cured. He'd be healthy and happy, and thankful for it.

"Eric, please talk to me," Alan pleaded, gazing up into his eyes one night.

The blond looked up from the paperwork he was finishing off. "I am."

"Properly, Eric," Alan said, unamused. He looked down, and Eric noticed him tense slightly. "What's going on? Something's wrong, I know it. Please, tell me the truth."

Eric inwardly groaned. So Alan had picked up on the strange behaviour, had he? He should have seen it coming. He was able to read Alan like an open book, and it was the other way round as well. "I'm fine, Alan."

Another lie.

The brunet looked at him with a pained expression. It didn't suit his features, Eric thought. He should be cheerful, not sad. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close. "Don't worry about me, Al."

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" Alan whispered. "I know it's something, and it kills me to know that you don't seem to trust me enough to tell me." He suddenly looked up, frowning. "You're not seeing somebody else, are you?"

Eric chuckled, holding him tighter. "Look at me in the eyes, Alan. Do I look like a man who's having an affair, or one who's completely devoted to you?"

That wasn't a lie, at least.

A smile crept its way onto Alan's face, and Eric felt relief cover him. He'd manage to avoid the topic, and assure Alan that he loved him. The situation would have been perfect, if it wasn't for the large quantity of lies he'd told.

* * *

><p><em>Lust<em>

"Are you sure you can't come?" Ronald asked, disappointment clear in his voice. "I'm sure he wouldn't mi-"

"Ron, I'm not going," Eric cut in. "Not without Alan. I'm going to stay here and take care of him. You'll still have Spears and Sutcliff to keep you entertained, won't you?"

"I doubt the boss will be very fun. He's only coming because Grell's threatening to quit if he doesn't, and the last thing he wants is another reaper down."

"I bet Spears secretly wants to go, but doesn't want it to look like that," Eric muttered. "Oh well. You'll have others, like all those girls from General Affairs," he added, winking. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

Ronald grinned, his mood rapidly improving. He was dressed in more casual clothes, making him look odd when added with his surroundings. The party was straight after he got off from work, so he hadn't enough time to go home and change. The reapers still working looked at him in confusion. "Alright then. If you're sure, I'd better be going."

"Have fun."

The youngest reaper left the room, and Eric found his eyes drawn back to Alan, lying on one of the infirmary beds after an attack. He sighed, looking down.

In truth, he'd wanted to go to the party. It was one of the last ones for the year, promising to be brilliant. He and Alan had planned to attend, but then the attack had happened just that afternoon. Alan still looked pale, but his breathing was steady, an improvement at least. Eric picked up his glasses from the bedside table and slipped them over the owner's nose, just for when he awoke.

The thorns were restricting everything they tried to do. The attacks were becoming more and more frequent; what was once a rare occurrence now happened weekly. Nobody was going to admit it out loud, but Alan was nearing closer and closer to the end, to death.

It scared Eric. Not even reapers knew for sure what happened after people died.

Why did they have to ruin everything, force Alan to be bedridden when he should have been out there _enjoying_ his life? It was painful to watch. The thorns didn't just affect Alan; they affected Eric too. He hated seeing his partner trapped by them. Sometimes, he felt just as confined.

He was pulled from the melancholy thoughts when he noticed that Alan was beginning to stir. In another few moments, the green eyes had opened underneath his glasses. They looked around, confusion briefly descending on them, before Alan sighed. He had remembered where he was, and why. "Another attack?" he said weakly, although it was more of a statement than a question.

Eric nodded, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't worry, though. You're alright now, aren't you?"

"I'm fine, but I take it we won't be going to the party either way?"

"No." The reply sounded cruel in his ears, but Eric wasn't sure what to add afterwards. It was true; after attacks, Alan was weak. A party was the last thing he could actually enjoy, for the fear of collapsing would hang over him the whole night.

His partner looked down, guilt resting on him. "Sorry," he mumbled, avoiding Eric's gaze. "I… I know you wanted to go, and now I've gone and…" He paused, drawing in a breath.

Frowning, Eric pulled his chair up closer to the bed, resting on it slightly. He wrapped his arms around the smaller figure and held him in a tight embrace, allowing Alan's head to rest comfortably on his chest. He felt him relax after a moment, and it was definitely a good sign. "Don't worry about it, Al," he whispered, "it really doesn't matter."

He hated the thorns, more than he could explain. They were taking Alan from him day by day, the wretched black lines adorning his wrists as a sign. He just wanted Alan to be safe and happy, nothing more. He wanted to stay with him for as long as he could to make sure of it, to hold him. To cherish and protect him until the very end of time.

Eric wanted Alan to be free. He wanted them both to be free from the disease, more than anything.

* * *

><p><em>Envy<em>

William and Grell.

Possibly the two most infuriating reapers, in Eric's opinion.

By themselves, they weren't so bad. William was too strict on rules and regulations, but that came with being the Head of Division. Grell could get annoying with his never ending energy; however it served as good entertainment on the more boring days. They were both good people. It was when they were together that really got to Eric.

It was clear that things had happened between them in the past, and that they had a history. According to Grell they were still together, and Eric believed him. Not many noticed it, but William's manner was slightly different when dealing with the red head. Somewhat accepting. Any other manager would have requested for Grell to be placed in another department by now, or at least made sure he followed the regulations more diligently. Yet William did not.

So why did they insist on playing the game of pretending? Acting as thought there was nothing, that they weren't involved?

Grell wasn't as bad as William, but then again he claimed that pretty much everything that _moved_ was in love with him, making it difficult to tell what when he was being serious. But the other just went through life as though there was nothing.

Even as the Head of Division and a reputation to uphold, he could have at least acknowledged the relationship. The higher ups probably wouldn't have cared, just so long as he didn't drag it into his working life and continued to do his job properly. With Grell though, that was easier said than done. But William would make it happen.

Eric hated it. They had everything; both were in perfect health, and their future was certain. Eternity was the amount they had together; it wasn't limited. Yet they took it for granted, like it meant nothing. Grell flirted with others while William acted like he was a burden to carry. Eric and Alan were the opposite. Each day with each other was a blessing, a miracle. It could end at any time.

He envied them.

They really had no idea.

* * *

><p><em>Pride<em>

His duties as a reaper, the quest for one thousand souls and Alan was all that Eric's life was made up of for months.

Being a God of Death, there was still his weekly load of work, which he'd somehow managed to get done while juggling the rest of his life. The quality of his work had vastly improved according to William, and he'd even managed to sneak some papers off Alan's pile and complete them himself, just so the brunet wouldn't have to do as much. It made Eric happy, knowing that they would both finish on time.

He was steadily collecting more and more souls, and Eric felt that there was some sort of _hope_. He barely heard the screams of his victims echo in his mind, and the nightmares that taunted him were no more. It was becoming easier; he just wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

And Alan. Every spare moment Eric had was spent with his partner, be it simply sitting with the other man or working with him. Each time made him feel happiness he never had before, and he knew Alan felt the same.

But now, he lay on the stairs, green eyes still. The steady rise and fall of his chest no longer existed, nor did his soft heartbeat. The warmth from his body was slowly fading, only to be replaced by coldness.

The fact was that Alan's life had ended, and Eric was responsible.

So much had happened in such a small amount of time. Their division had taken hold of the missing soul's investigation, and Eric's heart fell when Alan was put in charge. He was able to keep an eye on the progress though; but he'd have to stop his soul collecting. Or do a lot more, just to confuse them and draw suspicion away from himself. Then that demon had interfered, and uncovered the truth. While he fled, Eric came across a man… the sick Viscount Druitt, who saw his killings as some sort of beauty. The stage had been set perfectly at Crystal Palace in the form of a ball… many more souls had been collected during his massacre. Eric was so close to the thousandth.

But it didn't matter. Alan was gone, and it was he who had murdered him.

"Kill me, demon."

The words from Eric's mouth came out choked, but their meaning was still true. He barely even listened to the response given from Michaelis' master; it was meaningless background noise. His focus was fixed only on Alan.

Alan, who he'd worked so hard to save.

Alan, who he'd just struck with his scythe and killed.

Alan, who he'd _loved_.

He looked up to see the demon approaching with a familiar scythe. It wasn't his own; it belonged to Alan. "Alan's death scythe…" Eric murmured, feeling a burning sensation within him.

The demon said something about his blood dirtying Alan's scythe, but Eric barely paid attention. His head spun, and emotion overwhelmed him. Every heartbeat was painful; it was a reminder that he was still living. It just had it to end. Life was nothing without Alan. He wasn't going to die crying and pleading for his attacker to have mercy, because there was no reason to. Let the demon kill him; nothing mattered.

"I… I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

Why had he even said that? Of course he knew. He wanted to die. He wanted to join Alan in death, because there was nothing left for him in life. He felt sick, the thought gnawing deep within him. How had it come to this? He was so sure that Alan would live, that he would save him. Fate had decided otherwise.

Eric stood up a little straighter, closing his eyes. He wouldn't be killed unwillingly; this was a choice he was making. He would die with his pride at the very least.

The last sin he committed.

* * *

><p><strong>Good? Bad? I'd really love to know your thoughts on this, it's the first time I've tried anything in this style. I'll admit that I'm not happy with pride; I'm not even sure that I got the meaning of it correct. Perhaps I'll pass it off as abstract… actually, the whole thing's abstract xD Still, feedback is greatly appreciated.<strong>

**~Clide**


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